


to hajime, with love.

by suganii (feints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Not An Epistolary Fic, did i mention this fic mentions ass?, inspired by that one (1) scene in canon you Know The One, no actually im incapable but have this anw, this fic mentions ass, watch me build this ship out of sticks and stones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feints/pseuds/suganii
Summary: How It Came To Be That Iwaizumi Slaps Hanamaki's Ass: The Fic.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Iwaizumi Hajime
Kudos: 7





	to hajime, with love.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnimeGinaLinetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimeGinaLinetti/gifts).



> i finally posted it!<3
> 
> [YOU CANNOT MAKE THIS UP](https://twitter.com/hajimeloops/status/1325571657738694656).

Once in a while, once in a very great while, Hanamaki likes to think his boyfriend is cute. No actually, wait—that's a lie, he thinks his boyfriend is _very_ cute like, _all_ the time. But there are times when he thinks Iwaizumi—Hajime—is extra cute.

Like: now, when he's doing his best not to stare at Hanamaki's ass. His boyfriend is, in fact, doing everything he can to avoid even being thought of as _glancing over,_ including nearly walking straight into a locker. It’s as if he feels he isn't entitled to, which Hanamaki doesn’t get. Like, Hanamaki’s worked _hard_ to earn his ass. Iwa— _Hajime_ —is free to do all the looking he wants, if only out of respect, but also mostly because Hanamaki himself feels absolutely zero shame in doing the same to him.

He tries to convey all this with a meaningful wriggle of the eyebrows, the way he’s seen Iwaizumi sometimes do. Unfortunately, Hajime just catches his gaze and ducks, cheeks flaming as he does.

Hanamaki sighs. Okay, eyebrow communication still needs work. If the problem is that he's being too subtle, then maybe—

Thankfully, the locker room has nearly emptied out by now. All that’s left are a mere handful of stragglers, so the next time Hajime takes a seat on the bench, Hanamaki shoots a meaningful glance at the bystanders, then crosses the locker room to plop his ass right on top of Hajime's lap.

Hajime doesn’t squeal, but he does let out a surprised gasp.

Hanamaki warns the onlookers off with one more glare. Thankfully, the first-years take the hint, leaving the two of them finally, blissfully alone.

Hajime clears his throat. "Uh, what are you doing?" he asks, voice gruff.

He’s lucky he’s so cute. Hanamaki grins.

"What else? I’m taking a seat."

"On my lap."

"Yes, Hajime, on your lap," Hanamaki says patiently, wriggling a little until he finds a comfortable spot. Hanamaki can do patient. He's got two sisters, he's practically a saint.

"Why?" Hajime asks in a whisper.

Hanamaki sighs. _Okay_ , the direct route it is then. "Put your hands on my hips, please."

Puzzled, Hajime does as he asks.

Hanamaki can feel his frown lines forming from here. He resists the urge to smooth them out, wriggling his bum instead for emphasis, and it gets the desired effect this time: Hajime grips tighter. Hanamaki puts his own arms over Hajime's, squeezing them gently.

"See this? All of this, is, uh," his tongue fails him for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of _boy,_ but Hanamaki is nothing if not efficient at taking advantage of every situation as it comes, especially when it’s one of his own making. He lifts Hajime’s head gently with a finger. "It's all me. Your boyfriend. You're free to look, and you're free to touch. That's what this means."

He melts a little when he sees Hajime nodding, his eyes burning pools into Hanamaki’s soul, and then Hajime metls too, burying his head against Hanamaki’s shoulder, his arms moving to encircle Hanamaki’s waist. "Sorry I'm so bad at this," he says. "You're… well, you're my first one."

Hanamaki’s heart swells. "It's okay," he murmurs, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. "I didn't start dating you because you were perfect, Hajime."

Hajime grumbles, “You were supposed to say I’m your first too.”

“You are.”

“Good.”

Hajime sighs, taking a breath—inhaling Hanamaki in. Hanamaki thinks he's starstruck, because there should be no situation when breathing in a sweaty, gross Hanamaki is romantic, yet here he is. Being romanced in the most romantic way in his whole seventeen years of existence.

"Your ass is mine, got it," Hajime finally mumbles, and Hanamaki huffs a breathy laugh. Good, so he finally gets the memo.

Hanamaki leans forward a little, and Hajime adjusts, resting his forehead against his. For a heartbeat, it's just the two of them, existing in a hallmark moment. Hanamaki finds himself relaxing, lulled into a state of haziness in the arms of his boyfriend and those godsend ripped arms. He really loves his life.

When, the next time after Hanamaki sets an emergency toss to Hajime on court, and Hajime slaps his ass as he prances past, Hajime grins. Hanamaki, trying as hard as he can not to turn the shade of a tomato ripe as his hair, grins right back.

(Off-screen, Oikawa chokes.)


End file.
